


Absolutely Ridiculous

by gitanadelsol



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family, Gen, Marriage Talks, Ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 00:32:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3589620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gitanadelsol/pseuds/gitanadelsol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Molly Weasley learns some very shocking news about her son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolutely Ridiculous

Molly Weasley had thought things would quiet down to a dull hum-drum existence once her youngest finished Hogwarts. If she were being honest, she would have to admit that there was once a time when she looked forward to these years, back when Ginny was a wailing toddler and Bill was an excited, hyper-active youth twirling around a newly acquired wand. Seven children had been carried bundled in soft blankets into the Burrow; in it those seven children had learned how to walk, talk, and mind their manners. They had grown, both in height and ability, the far wall of the kitchen indicating the yearly growth spurts of all seven. Then, one by one, they had walked out to embark on separate lives as adults.

Although the shells were long gone, the nest was far from empty. A band of screaming, carrot-topped children had been replaced by a lively group of respectable adults. What was more, when her children visited, they brought along their spouses, giving Molly new members to gush over and feed. Ginny and Harry had just married in June, and seeing her baby girl walking down the aisle on Arthur's arm was just as emotional as watching her being brought into the Burrow all those years ago, cradled in those same arms. George and Angelina were coming to their third anniversary, and Percy was happily engaged to a very influential Muggle woman who seemed to take to her husband being a wizard as calmly as if he had told her he was a doctor. Ronald had stopped being so stubborn and was due to marry his long-time friend, Hermione Granger, next spring (Molly highly suspected that watching his sister make plans to wed his best friend had quite a bit to do with it).

It wasn't just adults now, though – oh no! The Burrow was a place constantly touched by the joys of children, for just as the last of her flock was striding out, the next generation was crawling in. Victoire was born two years after the end of the war, followed closely by a sister, Dominique. Angelina was waddling around now with a swollen belly, slowing both her and George down from their normal fast-paced, energized lives; Victoire and Dominique would very soon be joined by a baby cousin.

Molly had thought that motherhood was the best thing that could have happened to her but she was wrong; being a grandmother was twice the joy and half the stress.

Everything was going as it should. Her children were settling down, getting married, having children…all except for one. Her wayward son was lagging almost alarmingly behind on this particular issue. Molly frowned at the thought of her son. He had come over to Britain as a break from his work, and of course Molly had insisted he stay at the Burrow while he was on holiday. He should have been up already, as should have been the girls. He was normally up and about very early. She wondered what he was up to.

She needn't have worried, however, for at that moment the sound of off-key singing could be heard coming closer and closer. Charlie was descending the creaky wooden stairs, bouncing year-old Dominique awkwardly with one hand while holding onto Victoire with his other. Victoire, who was three, was singing along with him, her long blonde tresses raining down her back in soft curls. Her high voice matched Charlie's baritone in volume.

"Uncle Chawlie." Victoire slurred over the r, not quite able to pronounce it in all words. "Uncle Chawlie, can you tell us a stowy?"

Molly could hear the small group making their way toward the kitchen. Chairs were scrapped across the floor, cabinets were being opened, and pots clanked. Sitting in the living room, they had not noticed her. Molly thought better of going to say good morning; instead, she stayed where she was seated, making herself more comfortable in the rocking chair as she listened to the conversation between her son and her granddaughter.

Charlie chuckled softly. Molly could hear him helping Victoire into a chair at the table. She had taken up the big sister role very well and defended it greedily, developing an "I can do it by myself" attitude ever since she became a sister. But Charlie found ways to get around her stubbornness and help her with things that were out of her reach.

"A story?" There was a pause, one Molly assumed was Victoire nodding her head yes, and then Charlie continued, "What kind of story do you want?"

"A pincess story!" she declared without hesitation.

Without much protest or preamble, Charlie launched into a story in a faraway kingdom where a beautiful princess was kept high up in a tower to keep her safe from a dangerous dragon that feasted on the kingdom's sheep.

"And kids!" Victoire added happily. "It eats babies."

Molly was taken aback by this comment and the violence it contained. And Victoire with a baby sister, to top it off! Molly frowned, making a mental note to talk to Bill about what exactly he and Fleur were exposing her granddaughter to.

Like most of Charlie's tales, this one was full of odd twists and turns. The princess escaped her tower on her own to go see the baby-eating dragon; the knight they sent to rescue her was clumsy and rode a fat grey pony; and the dragon himself was a lazy old lizard who was shocked to discover a stubborn and chatty princess standing before him, announcing that she was his prisoner. Dominique babbled, and Victoire laughed and interrupted rather frequently to make modifications to Charlie's tale, so that it was very difficult to determine who the real mastermind of the plot was.

Molly rose from the rocking chair and walked towards the kitchen, positioning herself in such a way that should see her son without being seen by the girls. She eyed him critically. He was wonderful with children, that much was obvious. He was most relaxed and therefore most himself when he was with his nieces. She couldn't understand why he wasn't married yet, or even with a girlfriend, for that matter! The whole situation was very odd and not wholly acceptable, in her opinion. Charlie was down-to-earth, kind, and good with children: just the kind of guy women should want. He wasn't getting any younger; the end of the month would bring his thirtieth birthday. Molly scrutinized his appearance, honing in to the scar creeping up his neck, the charred skin on his right forearm, and the half-healed claw marks that were raked across his back. Okay, so he had a wild streak, Molly conceded. That could be attractive. It indicated that he was spontaneous, adventurous, energetic. Women did not like boring men. He would have plenty of stories to tell, and stories were always interesting.

There was a shriek of surprise from the other end of the kitchen, jolting Molly from her thoughts. Charlie had moved out of her field of vision, and was attempting to get the girls to settled down. Concerned, Molly gripped her wand and strode out, deciding that it was finally time to say good morning and get things back under control.

"What's going-"

Molly stopped short, at a loss for words. Charlie had gotten both girls quieted and the three were huddled together. They were all peering at something that was sitting atop Charlie's fist, with its scaly blue tail curled around his wrist. It wasn't that big, really, not much larger than a squirrel. But its scales reflected the sunlight in a way that fur did not, and the snout held sharp teeth meant for ripping flesh apart rather than cracking nuts. Molly did not care that it was no bigger than a squirrel; dragons were _not_ allowed in the house, regardless of their size or how well they fit with the current story.

"Charlie! What is _that_ doing here?"

Immediately, all three heads whipped in her direction. Charlie had a guilty expression but Victoire only beamed and ran to her. Dominique began to bang on the tabletop and Victoire rushed into her grandmother's embrace.

"Good morning, dear," Molly said in a level tone. Over the silver head, however, she gave her son a meaningful look. With one quick flick, the dragon perched on his fist transfigured back into an apple in his palm.

"Mornin', Mum," he greeted with a slightly bashful expression. He drew Dominique from her high chair and then kissed his mother on the cheek in greeting. Molly took Dominique in her arms, smiling broadly at the little girl, as Victoire chattered nonstop at her feet.

"…da tower, and then the pwincess went to see the dwagon and the knight couldn't save her, and then she wanted to be kidnapp'd, and then…"

"Victoire, dear," Molly interrupted gently. "Why don't you go into the family room with your sister while Uncle Charlie and I clean the kitchen? We'll be over in a moment."

"Can I play ponies with Chawlie?" Victoire asked.

"Yes, you can," Molly answered with a smile, setting down Dominique on her feet. "Now, hold your sister's hand! And remember to walk slowly."

"So she doesn't fall down," Victoire said with an important nod. Molly smiled and agreed. Dominique tottered on her feet but Victoire soon came to her side. The two girls inched their way out of the kitchen, Victoire speaking words of encouragement and singing lines of different songs as she went. By the time the girls were safely seated in the center of the family room, Charlie had taken Victoire's unoccupied chair, a large bowl of oatmeal before him. Molly studied him for a moment, wondering if it was the right time to bring up the topic.

It's now or never, she thought finally. It was unlikely she would get him on his own again for a long time.

"Francine Greyton came by the other day. She moved in just down the road."

"Who did?"

"Francine Greyton," Molly repeated, watching him closely. He only looked puzzled, though.

"Who is she?" he asked, obviously clueless.

"Oh, Charlie, you know who Francine is! She was in your year at Hogwarts."

Charlie sat thoughtful for a moment. Then he asked, "Tall girl? Black hair and blue eyes?"

"Well, brown actually, and her eyes are grey." Molly pursed her lips when she caught the man shrugging as if to say _same difference_ but continued, "But yes, that's the one. Pretty girl. She got divorced a couple of years ago and thought she might like to move out to the countryside to focus on her artwork. She came by the other day." She paused before, "She asked about you." She didn't mention that Francine had actually asked about all her children; she had mentioned Bill and Charlie by name and that counted for something.

"Mkay," Charlie replied through a mouthful of oatmeal.

Molly gave him a reproachful glare, putting her hands on her hips. Charlie paused, spoon halfway to his mouth. Molly felt a small bit of satisfaction that she could still scare her children with one look.

"Erm…congratulations for her? Mum, is there something you want me to do?"

"Yes! I want you to go talk to her!"

Charlie's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Is she looking for an internship working with dangerous crea-"

"No, Charlie! I want you to go talk to her like a man talks to a woman. She's a nice girl with a stable job. You should meet her, I think you two will get along just nicely. She works over at-"

"Mum, stop," Charlie said firmly, holding up a hand. "I see where you are going with this, and I don't want you setting me up on dates."

"But Charlie you need a girlfriend! You will be thirty in just a couple of weeks, and I want to see you with a nice girl before I die. Your brothers are all married, even Ginny!"

"Yes, they are. Mum, look, I understand you worry, okay, but I will be just fine. I don't really want to get married, anyway. Besides, my job is rather demanding."

Molly stared at her son, the weight of his words sinking in. _I don't really want to get married._ He meant _right now_ , right? He must have meant _right now_ ; he could not possibly be thinking of _never_ getting married. The idea was preposterous!

"What do you mean," Molly asked slowly and with forced calmness, "you don't _really_ want to get married?"

Charlie sighed and got to his feet, looking like he really wanted to end the conversation. One hand went up to his ear, rubbing and tugging it, like he always did when he was nervous or uncomfortable.

"Mum, please don't get all worked up."

"Charlie, you do plan on getting married eventually, right? _Soon_?"

"I don't know, Mum, I haven't met the right girl. Maybe. Look, I'm really not that into getting married, okay, it's not my thing. I am happy with my life. I don't really believe marriage is necessary…"

"Not necessary?" Molly shrilled. "You would be with a woman but you wouldn't marry her?"

"That's not what I meant…look, Mum, I really don't see myself getting married, all right? If I do, then great, but it doesn't worry me if I never get married."

"Oh honestly, Charlie, don't be absurd! Of course you are going to get married, you must!" Agitated, Molly began flitting about the kitchen, organizing toppled jars and wiping off crumbs, anything to keep her hands busy. She could not believe what she was hearing! Behind her, Charlie sighed. She felt two strong weathered hands grip her shoulders and a kiss being placed on the back of her head.

"Relax, Mum. Don't worry about me. I should see to Victoire and Dominique, make sure they aren't getting into trouble." With a squeeze she was sure was meant to be reassuring, he dropped his hands and ambled away.

Molly set to work about the kitchen, brandishing her wand (perhaps a bit sharper than was needed) at the pot and dishes. They immediately sprang up and floated to the sink, where they began to wash themselves. She then took to straightening the chairs and table mantle, muttering all the while under her breath. Doesn't want to get married, she thought irritably.

Why, the very idea was ridiculous – absolutely ridiculous!


End file.
